How it Happened
by TMJones
Summary: AU: For their five-year anniversary, Riku and then Sora think back to how they became a couple in high school, in the form of letters to each other.


A/N: Warning! There's mature content in here! Two boys making out! Heavily! :o Not really, though; I tried and this is the end result. This was a request for someone on Deviant Art, and I thought I'd share it with you all :)

The next chapter of Closer than Far will come soon, as well as an explanation for the hiatus. :/ The short version is a 40-hour work week all summer and deadlines like crazy, but more on that later.

Title: How it Happened

Summary: AU: For their five-year anniversary, Riku and then Sora think back to how they became a couple in high school, in the form of letters to each other.

* * *

"You first," Riku said.

They were sitting at the kitchen table in their modest apartment, celebrating their five-year anniversary. Riku had just graduated college a year ago, and was working under some of the top engineers at Shinra as an apprentice. Sora had been recruited into a local semi-professional soccer team two years ago. He wouldn't trade it for the world.

Sora pulled the single piece of paper that was folded perfectly in the envelope Riku had handed him, and opened it to see Riku's neat handwriting forming an essay that was the exact length of the front page—not a word more or less. Inwardly, Sora laughed; that was Riku, all right— everything was as perfect as humanly possible, without his even trying.

"Did you use a ruler to get the writing that straight on blank paper?" Sora asked, grinning at his boyfriend, "Or are you so OCD that you do it subconsciously, now?"

Riku just rolled his eyes.

"I'm not answering that," he said dryly. Sora laughed. Then, after Riku threatened to take the letter back if he didn't read it soon, Sora smoothed the fancy paper out on the table and started to read.

* * *

Dear Sora—

I don't know when it started. Maybe it was long time ago when we were still kids playing in the sand and salt water, throwing seaweed at each other— before we noticed agonizing words like 'like' and 'love', and things only had one meaning, one place.

I don't know how it started. I'm your best friend, you'd say. I considered you the same, but I always had an unannounced clause that I added to the phrase, another layer that was invisible to your cheerful, lighthearted tones. You still live as though time hasn't changed us; a hug is just a hug, and a smile is a way to show that you're happy about something.

I live differently.

I have layers and layers of feelings and thoughts, all wrapped together, woven into half-formed cables and knots, a mess upon a mess. I am the still waters that are running deep, full of secrets and a darkness you will never embrace in the same way. You're too good for me, and you don't even know it.

I remember being so, so scared when you told me you were the same way I was. Keeping my footnotes and clauses to myself was easier, when I didn't think you could possibly return my feelings. Now it was a war, and every smile and hug and touch was a battle.

I was weakening under the pressure. There were some days I couldn't remember to breathe when you looked at me, laughed with me. I have a will stronger than most, and discipline that always prevails the most rigorous of situations— but I was cracking, slowing down, struggling. I was freezing up now every time you got too close. I had a predefined line that only you couldn't cross, and you did it all the time. You were torturing me, and you didn't even know it.

I don't know how you started. I was too delirious, too infatuated with the fact that you were nervous about something that you wanted to say that all other words and sensations were useless to me, a senseless jumble of neural stimulation that stood in the way of what you were trying to tell me, wanting to tell me.

"I...like you," you said, "m— more than...a friend."

One sentence was all it came down to. Our childhood, our history, our everything and anything was suddenly hanging before me, teetering dangerously on a set of words that I didn't dare to say. For the sole reason that our friendship would be obliterated and turned into something as unpredictable as love, I had kept my mouth shut for lifetimes, it seemed, fighting against forces much bigger and stronger than myself.

You were always the one that spoke your mind. You cracked before me. My life, my very existence, hung on this string that you were holding— a red string, beautiful and inviting.

"I love you," I whispered.

I know how it happened. The dam broke, the force overpowered me, and in less than a second we had crashed into each other, pressing against lips and bodies as though there was nothing else now, and there never was. Thank god we were in your room with the door shut. Thank god your parents trusted us enough to leave us alone in your house.

We learned about each other all over again, underneath the barriers and lies, underneath falsities and assumptions. There was only movement, sensation, hands, heat, closeness. The sheets on your bed looked foreign to me that day; my whole world had changed, and all I saw was the proximity of our skin and how new it felt. We were strangers in a way we never had been; I was standing on the brink of something completely foreign, feeling gravity pull me over the edge of a cliff I could never stand on top of again.

You made the decision for me. I was over you, and you were flat on your back. You lifted yourself up with your stomach muscles and kissed me, full of a fire that made my every nerve tingle with a pleasure so overwhelming— _so _overwhelming. You pulled me onto you, into an abyss that I gladly welcomed. Your bed sank, heavy with the weight of pressure and wanting. You kissed me hard; I forgot to breathe.

Instinct made everything dizzying and hazy. Instinct led me through the motions; I was over you, listening for the first time to a deeper drive than logic. This was passion, a desire stronger than anything I'd ever known before. I somehow understood what you were whispering to me enough to follow, as we moved with and against each other. You were the one that had done this before, not me.

I don't know how long it was until we slowed to stillness, a tangle of limbs and sweat and air thick with moisture. We didn't speak until our breathing was lighter, content with just staying where we were, feeling what we were.

"Riku," you whispered against my shoulder.

"What?"

"This means we're together now, right?"

Without even thinking, I whispered back,

"Yeah."

That's how it started.

* * *

Sora and looked up from the paper to find that Riku was smirking.

"What?" Sora asked.

"You're blushing."

Sora didn't answer; instead, he just picked up his letter and smacked Riku's forehead with it.

"Your turn!"

"Ow!" Riku flinched. He eyed it as it fell onto the table. "Geez, Sora, what did you write? A book?"

"No, I just wrote big."

"Oh."

He opened the letter— and then laughed, when he pulled out the stack of papers inside.

"What's funny?"

"Remember that time you got in trouble because your lit teacher thought you were writing like a first grader on purpose?"

Sora rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I remember that. Unfortunately."

"Your handwriting still looks like that—"  
"Are you going to read the letter or not?" he snapped. Riku took the first page and smoothed it out on the table.

"I'm reading it, I'm reading it..."

* * *

To: Riku

From: Sora

Topic: Anniversary essay. Thing. A title would be good here.

We always had a thing for each other, I think. One of those things you notice, but you don't really catch on to until _way_ later after everyone else has figured it out. That's how I think of us. I'm pretty sure the first time I thought of you in a way other than a friend was also my first hint to myself that I was gay.

It's funny looking back on now. Here I am, sixteen, thinking I'm the shit 'cause I'm officially the best player on the soccer team, according to everyone that knew anything about soccer. Some of the guys on the team claimed that it was because of me that soccer was so popular at our school, like I was making people want to join. And then I start crushing on my best guy friend since childhood.

I kept coming up with all these crazy stories that I didn't tell anyone, trying to rationalize how I could possibly end up liking you, the guy I used to throw seaweed at when we went to the beach 'cause I thought everyone looked funny with seaweed on their head when I was five.

Not that this has to do with anything, but I still think that's funny. You know that already, though— remember the last time we went to the beach with Roxas and all his friends and I found a ton of the stuff? Hehehe...

Anyway, the excuses got so messed up that even I was having trouble believing them. So then I had to just face the fact that I liked you and that I had to deal with it. I think the part that made me realize that was when you were helping me with my math homework, and your face was really close to mine when I turned my head to ask you something and came _really_ close to actually kissing you. I kept having daydreams about what would happen if that had gone further after that— and they wouldn't go away.

Oh, god, I was so nervous when I told you I was gay. I knew you weren't going to hate me or anything, but it was still hard 'cause I liked you and all. I was so close to just telling you the rest of it, but you already looked kind of freaked out about the first part, so I just shut up after that.

And then it got really hard to not say anything more. And I mean hard. Seriously, I kept making crazy excuses after finding out that I had gotten too close to you, because I would just do it without thinking about it. You'd give me these looks, too, like I had just insulted you or something. It's funny that I thought that, though; I knew that you look all defensive when you get uncomfortable about something. If I had been in my right mind at the time, I probably would have figured out you felt the same way. But I didn't, 'cause I felt like a mess. If you hadn't been so focused on keeping everything in, it might have been obvious to you, too.

Did I ever tell you that Kairi kept making fun of me for it? She kept asking when the wedding was.

She still asks that, actually. Not that that's a hint or anything!

MOVING ON, I came so close to telling you so many times before I actually did I don't even know the number, now. I was actually keeping count one time, but I was too afraid that you'd see the tally somewhere and ask what it was for. And I was afraid that I'd be so flustered that I wouldn't be able to lie on the spot. I think I stopped somewhere around 20, and that was after a period of like, three days, or something. I don't know what started my almost telling you every time there was an opportunity, but it got to the point where I just couldn't take it any more.

Then came the day. I told everyone I was inviting you over to study, but I was really going to just confront it. I didn't plan on my parents not being home, but Mom forgot to pick up something at the store, and she didn't want to go alone, so she dragged dad along with her. A part of me didn't want either of them to go, in case you freaked out or something. Not that I thought you would, but nerves make you doubt things like crazy.

You know, if you had told me you were gay too, it would would have been a lot easier. You're always taking the hard way.

So then you came over and there I was, suddenly wishing that I hadn't even started to say anything at all. I was even more nervous than I was when I told you I was gay. And then, after I managed to spit it out, you just looked me right in the eye and whispered,  
"I love you."

That is probably one of the hottest ways you've said 'I love you' to me ever. You got me— hook, line, and sinker. It still gives me chills to think about, 'cause you still give me that look sometimes like you're ready to just jump me, and every time it gets me. I think you know what that look is, but if I remember next time you're trying to get on top, I'll tell you.

(Like that's going to happen ever).

We're not showing these letters to anyone else, are we? 'cause that last sentence there would probably burn someone else's eyes out. Except for Axel, he likes reading that kind of stuff—

* * *

Riku put the letter down.

"You know, at least I actually wrote a couple of drafts before using the fancy paper."

Sora frowned, and grabbed his paper back.

"Well fine, if you don't want to read it, don't!"

Riku laughed.

"I didn't say that! You just sound like you're talking on paper."

"It's supposed to be realistic!"

Riku laughed harder. Sora set the paper on the table again. Next time he saw Axel, he was going to give him a piece of his mind. It was _his_ stupid sappy-crap idea in the first place...

He had thought this would be cute, or something; Sora and Riku had planned about a week earlier to write out what they remembered of how they first got together, at Axel's urging, that they would give to each other on their anniversary. Riku had thought it was a great idea, and had apparently spent the past week crafting the essay Sora was holding in front of him now. If he wasn't used to getting criticized so harshly, he'd would have stormed off by now. Riku had always been mean like that, though.

"Did you even read the whole thing?" Sora asked instead.

"No, you took it away from me before I got past the first page," Riku said, picking up the paper again, "You ramble."

Sora just stuck his tongue out at him. Riku didn't notice, though; he was too busy picking up where he left off...

* * *

Speaking of 'that kind of stuff', I love what happened after that :). I don't even remember who got the head start, but we were all over each other in no time. I remember you pushed me over onto the bed like there was something about to hit my head— except that I never got up again, obviously. After that...wow.

You know how when you get sucked out further to sea than you intended to go because of that undercurrent that you barely notice? That's what that first time making out with you felt like. It wasn't the first time I had made out with a guy (you knew that), but it felt so completely different that it may as well have been. Before I even really thought about it, your hands were going further than I had ever thought they would go on me. I had dreams about that kind of stuff, but never once did I think it would actually _happen_ happen. Especially with you. I had convinced myself that it was just because I was around you all the time that I liked you, and that after I had gotten it off of my chest, you would reject me and I would be able to move on with my life and get over it.

I remember thinking at the time that I needed to pinch myself, because I was obviously having a dream, or something. Then you did that hip thing you do, and...well, let's just say I was seriously considering just throwing any restraint out the window, if you catch my drift. I remember thinking that felt so good that it was just about as far as I could go before I exploded, or something.

That's funny to think about now, considering all the other stuff that we've done from then until now. But I still remember exactly how that first time went, even after all this time. Crazy, huh?

By the time you pulled away, that line between dream sequence and reality was so blurred I was wondering why your clothes were still on; in my mind, I had taken them off at some point (yes, I wanted to do it that badly). Then that dream-reality line started coming back, and I realized that we had just made out heavily after confessing we liked each other.

Can I just say your eyes are intense? I know your mom always said that 'cause they were so bright that you looked like a demon child when you were a kid, but they really are. I remember thinking of that when we were staring at each other after that. I felt like we had just stopped before going down a one-way road to a relationship. That's...kind of what I wanted, though. I wasn't just fantasizing about the physical stuff, I realized; I was dreaming about us. In a relationship.

So I asked if that made us a thing. When you said yes...

That's how it started.

* * *

After a couple minutes Sora heard the papers crinkle, as Riku set Sora's narrative down again. Sora knew just from how slowly Riku was going through the motion that he'd liked that last part.

"See?" Sora said, smirking, "_realistic_."

Riku's eyebrows lifted just slightly.

"Not as realistic as it could be," he said.

Sora smiled.

"You're doing that look thing," he said. That made Riku smile— in a cat-hunting-his-mouse kind of way, but Sora didn't mind that, either.

"We're not doing anything else today, are we?"

Without a word, Riku swiftly stood from his chair and walked around the table to stop in front of Sora. Before Sora could ask what was going on, Riku had put his hands on the back of Sora's chair and was leaning over him. Sora just tilted his head back, still smirking waiting for Riku to explain himself.

"Not outside this room we aren't," he murmured.

"I _see_..."

* * *

Hope you enjoyed, everyone! Until next time!

-Trempush


End file.
